


those days are gone

by orphan_account



Series: in absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt [3]
Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, M/M, Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:51:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Just because he's defending me, that doesn't mean he's supporting me.”“And you think this story will get him back?”The lack of answer is answer enough.





	those days are gone

It’s around midnight when Maggie gets the call. She pulls out her phone casually, planning on rejecting it and letting them leave a message – she’s gotta have at least one day off – but when she sees the name, she just has to pick it up.

She takes it outside, out into the cool New York evening, and slides it open. “Hello?”

“Haberman,” Bannon says, by way of greeting, “Reince Priebus and Dina Powell are fucking.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_They drink from the same glass, taking turns while they read through the files. Reince is leaned back in a folding chair, feet crossed as he flips through a couple of pages on basic North Korean history. He can feel the weight of Dina’s foot as it brushes against his leg, jittering up and down while she turns over yet another page._

_They both reach for the glass at the same time, and they both chuckle about it._

_“You can take it,” Reince says. “I mean, it is your bottle, after all. Go ahead.”_

_“You’re the one who had a long day,” Dina counters. “By all rights, you should be the one who gets to go to town on some nice wine.”_

_“Go to town on nice wine?” Reince repeats, unable to keep the humor out of his voice._

_“You know,” Dina gestures vaguely, “chug it straight from the bottle, wipe your mouth on your shirt, lean back and kick your feet up on the desk and let out a long sigh.”_

_“If I put my feet on the desk,” Reince says, “then I’ll get the files dirty.”_

_There’s a pause and then they’re both laughing. Reince grins and Dina chuckles softly. “I never would’ve pegged you for an uptight prick.”_

_Reince shrugs. “Uptight, maybe. But prick,” he leans back and puts a foot on the edge of the desk, “definitely.”_

_Dian swats his foot away, shaking her head. She pulls some files together, then leans forward, resting her hand under her chin. “You sure you’re not uptight, Reince?”_

_“There’s only one person in the Executive Branch who can be considered uptight and that’s Mike Pence,” Reince says. He sits forward and puts his elbow on the desk. “Compared to him, the rest of us are Bannon on his off-days.”_

_At that, Dina nearly snorts. She covers her mouth with her hand. “Fuck, Reince, you can’t drop a joke on me like that.”_

_Reince gives her a cheeky smirk. “Oh yeah? Why not?”_

_“Because,” she says, returning the look, “I’ll have to get back at you somehow.”_

_“Really?” He pulls the chair a little closer, leans a little further, just close enough that he can smell her perfume. He doesn’t know what it is, but whatever it is, it smells intoxicating on her. “What did you have in mind?”_

_She takes the glass and brings it to her mouth, and he watches as she drinks it down. She smacks her lips with a satisfied sigh but instead of leaning back and setting up her feet, she leans forward, across the desk, until they’re breathing each other’s air._

_Reince is the one to bridge the gap and kiss her._

“I don’t write gossip,” Maggie replies, voice curt. “You’re better off calling the _Post_. Or, better, the _National Enquirer._ ”

“I’m serious,” Bannon says. His voice is coarse and rough, but smoothed over on the edges. She’s pretty sure he’s a little drunk. More than a little, actually.

“Yeah?” she says. “Got any proof?”

There’s a pointed pause, then a heavy sigh. “Hear me out.”

She can’t help it – she laughs. “I can’t believe that Steve Bannon is asking me to hear him out on a leak like this.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “Fine, fine. What’s your story?”

Hope it’s better than your movies, she thinks, but doesn’t say. It wouldn’t do her any good to antagonize Bannon, not when he’s in this state.

He clears his throat and starts to speak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Reince tries to pull Dina closer, fingers carding through her hair as he resists a moan. It’s been so long since he’s kissed someone who doesn’t want to actually murder him, and it’s almost enough to get him hard again. The end of the table digging into his stomach, and he stops kissing for a moment so he can stand up._

_Dina kicks off her shoes, letting them fall into her seat, and she swings herself around until her feet are hanging off the front. She’s sitting on top of a couple of papers, but fuck if either of them care about North Korea right now._

_Reince leans down and kisses her again. He squeezes her hip and tilts her face forward, brushing the corner of her lips. Dina sighs a little into the kiss and starts to trail down to his belt buckle, ready to pull his pants down._

_He pulls away abruptly, eyes widening almost comically. “No,” he says._

_Dina furrows her brow. Her lips are pink and she looks thoroughly kissed and so beautiful. “No?” she says, voice calm but tinged with confusion._

_Reince licks his lips. “I, uh…” he doesn’t know what to say, for a moment, but the lie comes naturally. “I jerked off in the bathroom.”_

_The confusion in her face is quickly replaced with naked surprise. “What?” she asks._

_“Like you said,” he says, rubbing the back of his head and giving her a sheepish grin, “it had been a long day and, well… I needed to let off some steam.”_

_She just looks at him for a moment and then lets out a low laugh. “Sorry I ever called you uptight,” she says, a devilish tint to her smile. “Looks like you’re not that different from Bannon on your off-days after all.”_

_Something lurches in Reince’s chest when she mentions Steve’s name, and then, without much thinking, he’s kissing her again. Well, no, he is thinking and what he’s thinking is that he wants to kiss the thoughts of Steve away from his lips. He doesn’t want to think about him, not now._

_He starts to undo the buttons on her blouse._

“So,” Maggie sighs. Fuck, she really can’t believe that she’s still out here, still listening to this fucking nonsense. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “So, what you're telling me is that your only evidence is one, Priebus going up to her office; two, him closing the door behind him; three, the sound of laughter and mumbled talking; and four, a particularly flushed looking Priebus and a conspicuously immaculate Powell leaving separately and heading to separate restrooms.”

“Yes,” Bannon says, as though that should explain everything.

She thinks she's going to laugh again. Fuck if this isn't _completely_ stupid and also _completely_ typical DC. She shakes her head. “Have you heard of circumstantial evidence?”

“Have you heard of a solid lead and reliable source?” he huffs.

“I dunno,” she hums, “I mean, not since we were fake news or whatever.” She leans back against the wall. In the distance, there are sirens. “So that begs the question – why call me? Why not _Breitbart_ or the _Post_ or anyone else?”

There's a pause. “He likes you.”

“The President?” Maggie asks. She shrugs. “I'm not sure if 'like' is the right word...”

“No, not him,” Bannon says. “Priebus. He likes you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Dina's still wearing her shirt but her bra unhooks from the front and Reince just goes right for it. He takes a nipple in his mouth, gently sucking, barely using his teeth._

_He can't fucking believe he's getting hard again._

_“Oh, that's it,” she says, voice low and soft. One of her hands is clutching the desk for support, while the other grips the back of his head. “Yes, there's a good boy.”_

_Reince is suddenly so fucking hard. He sucks harder, brushing his fingers over her other breast, and Dina lifts herself up a little to pull down her pants and underwear._

_“You know what to do.”_

_And fuck, he does. He gets down on his knees and she moves her hips forward to let him eat her out. It's been a while since he's done something like this – with Sally, things were starting to tether off once he became RNC chairman and with Steve, well, fuck, why is he thinking about fucking Steve?_

_Dina's hand is back on his head, grabbing at the few small curls that remain. “Come on,” she says. Her voice is gentle but there's a certain demanding steel behind it. “Come on, I know you can do this.”_

_Reince nods a little. He moves his tongue around, into her folds, trying to remember what to do. He grazes her clit with his teeth and her grip tightens._

_“There you go,” she says, taking a slow breath. “There's a good boy. Now go on, keep it up.” Her legs lift over his shoulders and she leans further back, keeping her hand on him while the other supports her._

_He doesn't see any of this, though. He's starting to lose some coherent thought. She tastes so good and he's so hard, he's so hard, his dick is visibly tenting his pants and he slides a finger into her while he's teasing her clit._

_“You're such a good boy, Reince,” Dina says, her him trailing off into a soft sigh. “Oh, you're such a good boy for me. Keep going, keep going...” Her moans get a little louder and he can feel her tighten as she comes wordlessly._

_His face is wet and glistening with her cum and he can't even think straight. And for whatever reason, when he looks up at her, all he can think of is Steve._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Look,” Maggie sighs, “besides the fact that there is no evidence for this and I am no longer a Page Six writer, there's no audience for this.”

“What do you mean?” Bannon asks. “The Deputy National Security Adviser and the Chief of Staff are having an affair.”

“And I'm sure their spouses and their in-laws would care if that were true,” she says. “But this isn't my type of news.”

“It's news, it's about the President and people close to him, it’s very scandalous – what isn't there to write about?”

“Where do I begin?” She shakes her head and can’t help but grin. “Let me ask you a question, Bannon – why are you doing this to him?”

“What do you mean?” The frown is evident in his tone.

“I mean,” she says, sliding down a little so she's sitting on the steps of the fire escape, “Priebus has been defending you to the press. He’s been bringing you up in meetings, he’s been getting people to stop spreading rumors of your demise. Why would you do something like this to him?”

“Just because he's defending me, that doesn't mean he's supporting me.”

“And you think this story will get him back?”

The lack of answer is answer enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_He's pressed against her, holding onto the desk while her hand is in his pants and jerking at his dick in slow deliberate strokes. He feels like he’s going to explode._

_“It’s okay,” she mumbles into his ear, while he rests his head by his shoulder. “It’s okay, just let go. You’re such a good boy, Reince, just let go.”_

_He thinks he’s mumbling something, begging maybe, pleading, and then a finger grazes his bandage, where Steve bit him merely an hour ago, and then he’s coming._

_He’s coming so hard. His mind goes blank and his body goes limp. He falls into her embrace and she wraps her arms around him, stroking his back while his head is pressed between her breasts._

_It takes him a few moments to come back to his senses._

“Priebus and I are not friends,” Bannon all but growls. “We’re just colleagues on the same side in a war against people like you.”

Maggie sighs. “I’m not your therapist, Bannon, but I think there’s something to be said about the fact that you use so many war metaphors.”

“Fuck you, Haberman.”

“And yet you’re the one who called me,” she chuckles. “And I’m still not clear on as to why.” She pauses a moment. “Are you… _jealous_ of me?”

And that’s when Bannon hangs up.

She laughs then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Reince feels like his face is on fire. He carefully buckles up his pants and clears his throat. “I, uh…”_

_Dina shakes her head with a smile. “You don’t need to say anything, Reince. It’s quite all right.”_

_“Okay,” he says. He swallows hard. His face is on fire and he can still taste her on his lips. Her, and, somewhere under that, Steve. His face burns brighter._

_“How about this,” she finishes buttoning her blouse and reaches behind to grab her shoes, before standing up and looking at him, “you go to the restroom, freshen yourself up, and meet me in the mess hall? We’ll eat, we’ll look at more North Korea documents, and we’ll wait for our Sit Room brief.”_

_“Okay,” he says again. He’s not sure if he can say anything else._

_She’s still smiling, and then she kisses his cheek. “I’ll see you there, then.” She winks at him and he blushes harder than he thought was possible._

_He steps out, dusting off his shirt and making sure it’s tucked in all across before walking to the restroom. He wonders if Steve’s there, somewhere, watching him._

_He wonders why he wonders about Steve. He really should stop wondering._

_He heads inside the restroom._

(She picks up after a few rings. “Hello?” she mumbles quietly. Her voice is tired and filled with sleep – understandable, given the time of night.

He clears his throat. “Call your husband.”

“Excuse me?”

“Call your husband,” he says again. “He won’t pick up, but if he does, ask him where he is and who he’s with. You won’t like the answer.”

There’s a long pause and, for a second, he's concerned that she might have fallen back asleep. But then there's a slow and deliberate sigh. “You know, he told me you would call.”

He frowns a little. “Did he now,” he says, slowly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Yes,” she says. “He said you'd call me and try to sell me some crazy story about him someday, and that no matter how plausible it seems, you were likely lying.”

“I assure you,” he says, voice calm and controlled, “what I'm saying is the complete truth. I am not lying.”

“Fat fucking chance of that,” she snaps.

He can’t help it. He slams his hand down on the desk. “Dammit, he’s cheating on you. He’s cheating on you right fucking now.”

“Go to hell,” she says. “Don't ever fucking call me again.”

She hangs up and he drops his phone on the floor.

I fucked your husband twice, he wants to say. I fucked him twice and he fucking loved it each time. And I’m going to fuck him again and again and again.

He doesn't pick up the phone again.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maggie is just about to go back inside, but then her phone rings once more.

“Fucking hell,” she grumbles under her breath as she answers. “Hello?”

“Did Steve Bannon call?” Powell asks.

She can’t catch a fucking break, can she? She goes back to leaning against the wall, hand shoved in the pocket of her hoodie. “Why are you asking me?”

“He did, didn't he?” Powell clicks her tongue. “Are you going to go with the story?”

There's something about this that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand, but Maggie keeps her voice steady. “Not enough evidence,” she says, plainly. “And, quite frankly, it sounded too good to be true.”

“I see.”

Maggie clears her throat. “Would you like to make a comment on the record, Mrs. Powell?”

“On the record? I thought this wasn’t going to be a story,” Powell chuckles. She hums softly. “Well, on the record, Steve Bannon has a sick sense of humor and Reince Priebus is a decent man.”

“I see,” Maggie says. She debates asking for a second, but it slips out anyway. “And off the record?”

For a moment, she says nothing, but then an audio clip plays. There's just a low, grunting noise and vague murmuring, then someone's voice, clear as day in a Wisconsin accent, “Oh, please, Steve, please, _please_.”

Maggie doesn't say anything, not until she hears Powell's voice on the other end. “Us establishment types should stick together, shouldn't we? Lest we have another scandal on our hands.”

She pauses for a moment, considering her words carefully. “Have a good night, Mrs. Powell.”

“You too, Maggie.”

Powell hangs up and Maggie stares out into the cityscape. She shakes her head slowly and lets out a laugh.

“I fucking hate politics,” she says, and then pockets her phone as she turns around and heads back inside.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. All self-control has gone down the drain. 
> 
> Will there be more? Probably. After all, I did invent the Steve Bannon tag, the Bannon/Priebus tag, the Maggie Haberman tag, and now the Dina Powell tag. No one else is gonna use them (please use them, I don't want to be alone in this)


End file.
